Rae: I know I said I wouldn't update for a while, but I didn't have the right software with me to work on my uni project during my trip to Wales. Thus, I worked on chapter 7. And for the record, Jazz as a completely psychotic kid is hella fun to write :3

And my beta helpfully put into words what I couldn't; the flashback scene shows just how bad Foxtrot was and how much Jazz doesn't want to go back to there. Much love to her for the go-over~! (noms happily)

Chapter 8 will have to wait being written until after my assessments next week :d

Adam closed his own phone when he heard Jazz hang up. The background noise told the detective his partner was inside somewhere, loud music and voices taking up whatever sound space was leftover from Jazz's surprised and somewhat angry tone. Adam supposed he couldn't blame him, he'd been counting a fair bit on Astro at least being alive. However, Donovan was now being carted off to the hospital morgue and Octane was not expected to last night. He looked over at where Orion was talking to a couple of still rather startled guards and Byron was silently taking notes. Skylar had accompanied Octane to the hospital, partly for protection and partly to see if the talkative sniper could get anything more from Casey.

Benjamin was helping the other prison guards trying to restore some order to the chaos the inmates were riled up into from the death of two of their own right in front of their noses. He appeared to be a bit more successful than the other guards at calming them down, but that could just have been due to the serene presence Ben seemed to just naturally radiate. Adam looked back down at the phone clutched in his hand and then slipped it into his jacket pocket. He wished Jazz was around; as much as Ben's presence was appreciated, it was Jasper Miles who had the biggest effect on him. He sidled over to Orion, and the Commissioner sent him a small smile as he finished his conversation with the two chief guards.

"I'm sorry for calling you out on your day off," apologized Orion when he turned around to the detective.

Adam shrugged one shoulder. "It's alright, sir. To be honest I haven't done a lot with myself today. It's not like I had plans. It's just been a lazy day; this has broken the monotony somewhat."

A chuckle. "I'm glad. Phoned Lieutenant Miles?"

"Yes sir. He's understandably... upset."

Orion huffed. "Yeah, I figured. Where is he now?"

"I don't know, he didn't say. However, I suspect he's in a bar. Quite possibly one of the I told him were known felon hangouts." Adam gave a wry smile. "Trust him even at this early hour."

"Half-six in the evening and he's already partying?" Orion shook his head to hide a grin. "He just doesn't stop."

"He's determined," amended Adam. "He promised me he was going to bring Russell down. I believe him."

"I hope to hell he can. I've put a lot of faith in him to deliver what he said he could. I don't like throwing my men to the wolves." Orion patted Adam on the shoulder and moved off towards his car. The detective followed him with his gaze, cerulean eyes bright with apprehension. It slid away from the retreating back of his boss to the gaudy yellow and black 'crime scene' tape and temporary metal barriers sealing off the prison, beyond which stood a huge crowd of people all speculating amongst themselves what had happened or, for those who knew, who'd died, along with news crews from at least five different channels and one hovering helicopter. They were all bawling down microphones to their cameramen and the presenter back at their stations, and Adam briefly wondered which news crew Jazz had seen announce the murders. The question left as quickly as it came; frankly, he didn't give a damn. The media were the bane of his job. He started to thread a path through the cops and guards surrounding the prison entrance, walking sedately until he reached Ben. The blond offered him a tired smile, which was returned with a little wave.

"Hey Adam."

"Hello Benjamin." Adam looked around, pleased to see most of the prisoners calmer and skulking back inside from the prison yard to their cells under the ushering of some of the guards. "Everything alright now?"

"Better, for sure. 'Alright' wouldn't be the word I'd use. We got a couple guards and uniforms injured by a few over-rowdy inmates. Left them to me to deal with." The recon officer grinned despite himself. "I'm so lucky."

"I noticed," smiled Adam.

"The ones involved are being escorted to solitary now. Anyway, how's Jasper?" Benjamin untied the police-issue jacket he'd knotted around his waist and slipped it on.

"Good. For now, anyway. I'm more than a little worried about him."

"I'll join that club." Ben zipped up the black and white jacket declaring 'POLICE' on its back. "I gotta go finish up here and head back to the station. Paperwork galore now, should keep me busy for the next century. You'll be alright, yeah?"

"Yes, I think so. Thanks, Benjamin." The blond nodded and disappeared, leaving Adam pondering what to do now. The Detroit PD whose jurisdiction this was could handle things from here by the looks of it; the back-up they'd called in from the 9th precinct and the 27th - Orion's - precinct was no longer needed. He wend his way slowly back to his Datsun, thinking, and then came to the sudden decision to go see Casey and Skylar at the hospital. His pace didn't quicken, but his steps got more finality to them compared to their vague shuffle a couple seconds ago as he now had a destination in mind.

When he arrived at the hospital ten minutes later he showed his badge to the nurse at reception and asked where Casey Octane was. She nodded, motioned for another nurse to take over briefly and escorted Adam to the Cecilia ward, where Octane was laid covered in bandages and connected to three separate monitors, a drip and breathing apparatus. Skylar was leaning against a corner of the room, and sent the detective a bored look.

"He hasn't woken up yet. The doctors say it's only a slim chance he will at all, and if he does then it might be for all of five minutes before he's back into this comatose state. Which I have to say isn't really all that long to get any more information out of him. What am I supposed to ask him anyway? What are we looking for? No one's told me so I'm at a bit of -"

Adam stopped Skylar's babbling with a raised finger and quirk of the lips. The pale-haired sniper quieted instantly, not at all bothered about being interrupted, and eyed him expectantly.

"Allow me. I know more about what's relevant and what's not."

"Thanks Adam. That's just saved me a lot of 'umm'ing and 'ahh'ing that could be used to ask questions."

"That and your questions get a bit long-winded anyway," chuckled the detective, and Skylar joined in with giggles of his own, uncaring about the jibe at his inability to keep himself from babbling. He knew he did it, and it never bothered him; it was just something that made him Skylar.

"True, true." Their snickers faded and they settled down to wait then without another word, Adam perching himself neatly on one of the chairs and Skylar pacing restlessly but methodically across the room.

It was a good three hours later, probably more (Adam had lost track) when the monitor keeping tabs on Casey's heart and breathing beeped to show they were both increasing from that of a man unconscious to a man awake. Casey's eyes fluttered open as Skylar scurried to the suite door calling for a nurse. The dark burgundy orbs stared, unfocussed, at the ceiling for several seconds. Adam moved swiftly over to the bed, pulling out a mini-disc recorder and hitting the small red button to set it as he did.

"Octane," he demanded softly, "can you hear me?"

The glassy gaze slid hazily over to him, and Adam could see it took him a little bit to register his words. "Who're you?"

"Never mind that. Who attacked you? Who was it?"

A pause, shorter than the last one. "You're a copper, ain't you?" Octane coughed violently, letting out a groan as it jostled his injuries. "I ain't telling you nothing."

"Please, Octane. Tell me." Adam moved so the nurse who'd answered Skylar's yell could tend to the gang leader. "You have nothing to lose or gain."

"My ghost gets to see-" Another bout of coughing. "-you bastards floundering for answers."

"Casey. Who did this? Was it Russell? What is he planning?"

Casey regarded the brunette for about thirty seconds with eyes that were really losing focus, then motioned him over. Adam bent his head to his, recorder ready. The gang leader took an unsteady breath.

"Fuck you," he slurred quietly, and then the nurse started yelling for the doctors as Casey's body began heaving and the heart monitor suddenly started up a steady, continuous beep. Adam and Skylar were both pushed out the way as two more doctors and another nurse came rushing in with a defibrillator, and they watched as the staff set up quickly, shouted instructions and readings at one another and attempted to shock Casey's heart back into a functioning rhythm. The shocks got larger in strength, until the doctor administering them stopped, shaking his head sadly.

"No good. Call it."

One of the nurses scribbled something down on a clipboard as she said, "time of death is 10:07 in the evening, patient Casey Octane, cause cardiac failure due to extensive injuries." Adam slowly pressed the stop button on his recorder, and slid down into a seat as the now-calmer medical staff milled around discussing what to do next in low tones. He didn't hear them. His hand trembled as he clenched it, and then he slammed his hand into the floor. Skylar put a hand on the brunette's shoulder in an attempted placating gesture, but it just made him feel worse.

Nothing. He hadn't got anything out of the last of the gang trine. He's hoped to get at least something he could use to throw at Russell and help Jazz, wherever he was, but no. He'd got nothing. Nada. Zip.

He looked up at the force sniper still clutching his shoulder, and the young man sent him a sad smile. "C'mon Adam, let's go back. You look like you could use the rest."

"I look like shit, I know." Adam clasped the proffered hand and hauled himself to his feet.

"I didn't say that," protested Skylar. "You just look tired."

"You don't need to say it, I know I do." The detective ran a hand down his face and sighed. "You're right, let's go." He followed the sniper out the room and walked slowly back to his car, trailing behind a not-much-more-chipper Skylar. He blew a few stray, red-dyed hair strands out of his face and hoped his partner was having a lot more luck than he was.

-x-

There it was again. The scent of fear, the sounds of frantic breathing, the erratic pulses of tension in the very air around him, making it feel positively electric. 11-year-old Foxtrot grinned maliciously as he closed in on his quarry, fixing a silencer to his Glock as he stepped noiselessly towards the other man's hiding place. It was this bit of the hunt he loved best; when he had his target cornered and they knew it, yet still they tried to escape what was so obviously inevitable. Their attempts amused him no end, and just made it all the more enjoyable.

"There's no point hidin'," he sing-songed in a falsely sweet voice. "'M gonna getcha sooner or later. Why drag out what yeh know yeh can't avoid? I've already killed th'rest o' yer pack. No one's gonna save yeh."

"I can look after myself!" A voice reverberated around the warehouse, a pathetic attempt at vocal bravado revealing the trembling panic the gang runner had been reduced to. Foxtrot himself cocked his head to one side, listening to the echoes as he spoke again.

"I can see that, yer th'last alive. Fer now." Foxtrot shifted his weapon, having already pin-pointed the origin of the reverberation. "If yeh come out now I promise I'll make it quick."

"Never." The tremble was still there, if not worse than before. Foxtrot snickered to himself and made a deliberately loud footstep so the other man could hear how close he was, just to freak him out even more.

"So b' it." Foxtrot broke into a sprint then, steps light and soundless as he speedily reached the other end of the warehouse and rounded the corner to expose the other man's hiding place and the man himself. A weapon was immediately aimed his way with a surprised noise, but before the other could get any shots off a burst of fire from the Glock went straight to the man's legs, disabling them to a shocked, pain-filled cry. Foxtrot shouldered the weapon and knocked the other man's own away, out of reach. Two agony-glazed blue eyes rose from under bedraggled dark-brown hair to see their hunter for the first time, and a strained gasp was heard.

"You... you're just... just a kid! A kid! How... why..."

"'Cause I can 'n it's fun," countered Foxtrot with a smirk curling at his lips. "Yeh had th'chance t'make this easy, but honestly I like it when m'toys don' give up. M'playtime gets much more... fun." He rolled up a jeans leg to reveal a small sheath half hidden by his boot, and he slowly withdrew a long, sharp, serrated blade, flashing it in full view of his captive with the pretence of examining it for the first time. Gold eyes snapped from the blade to the terrified blue-eyed man on the floor when his fingers finished their exploration, a man who was also horrified that a child - a CHILD - could go this far, outwit an entire group of gang-runners and snap this badly, and Foxtrot's grin grew to nothing short of vicious. "So, shall we play?"

-x-

"Name known," said Samuel a few seconds after Jazz sat down. Jasper froze and shot the information specialist a curious stare.

"Come again?"

Rumble chuckled and Frenzy grinned. "It's just the way our brother talks. No one knows why, not even us, and he won't say anything about it. You get used to it after a while," the redheaded twin said.

"But he said your name's familiar to him." Frenzy held Jazz's gaze as the golden eyes swung to meet his. "Why would that be?"

"Prob'ly from LA," replied Jazz evenly, and held out his arm to show the gang tattoo off. "M'posse weren't exactly th'mos' liked gang around, 'n I was one o'th'worst o' 'em. Foxtrot was a feared name."

"Deduction correct." Samuel tilted his head to one side, studying the identifying mark. "You disappeared. Where and why?"

"Went int' hidin'." Jazz's eyes snapped around to the mahogany ones shadowed behind red frameless lenses. "That's all 'm sayin'."

"Why would you need to go into hiding if you were feared so badly?" asked Frenzy. "Who scared ya that badly?"

Jasper feigned hesitation, as though debating whether to tell or not. Then he finally leaned forwards over his drink and lowered his voice. "Morgan Russell."

"Russell?" Rumble's features twisted in shock, and an unreadable look was shared so briefly between the three brothers that if Jazz hadn't been scanning their reactions he would've missed it entirely. "What did you go and do to piss him off?"

"I ain't sure, but I heard he was after meh 'n I weren't takin' any chances." Jazz drained the last of his piña colada and sat back. "I did know his lackey trine, Donovan, Denton 'n Octane. I caused 'em more 'n enough trouble, so mayb' that was it." He gestured towards the bar and the TV. "That his handiwork? Russell's, I mean."

"Assumption likely accurate," was the cautious reply from Samuel. "Prevention of talking."

"Figgered. Though Octane hardly struck meh as a squealer."

"He wasn't. The other two were. He woulda gone after us if we'd left him alive, though. That would just have been troublesome." Rumble got two outright glares for his comment before he realized the slip of his tongue, and he frowned at the smug grin that spread across Jazz's face.

"I knew it," he said. "Yer all in with him, ain't ya?"

"I..." Rumble seemed at a loss for words, and eyed his twin. Frenzy just intensified his glare.

"So what if we are?" demanded the redhead.

"I want in." Jazz crossed his arms over his chest at the sceptical, disbelieving looks his statement got. "Look, I know yeh lost yer recon people. I can fill th'gap. Or 'm a decent bodyguard. Special ops if need b'. 'M an all-rounder."

"And why should we trust you?" Frenzy snapped. Jazz let out a short bark of hollow laughter at that.

"Trust? Ha! I never said anythin' 'bout trust. I don' trust any o' yeh as far as I can throw yeh. 'M offerin' m'services, not m'trust. Believe meh, trustin' people is th'last thing someone like meh does."

"Sensible boy." Frenzy leaned back and looked expectantly at Samuel. The man stared unwaveringly at Jasper, who stared coolly back and met the gaze without so much as a flinch. The lieutenant knew he was being tested and looked through to see if he was as transparent as he appeared. He hoped enough of Foxtrot had awoken that he would pass. It felt like enough; he was taking all of this in his stride too easily. His posture remained easy but wary, primed in case he needed to bolt. He kept his expression mostly neutral, but he felt some flare-ups of a bloodlust he had nearly forgotten flash across it as the mahogany eyes of Samuel showed him just what the man had seen and done, and none of it good. Jazz was internally horrified to find a pang of yearning to go back to the mindless violence Foxtrot indulged in among the emotions he was keeping in check. The scrutiny seemed to last an age to the saboteur, but in reality it was only a couple of minutes before it ended.

"Why?" asked Samuel finally, not taking his eyes off Jasper's.

"'Cause I thought instead o' Russell wastin' resources 'n men searchin' fer meh, he could use another player. Ain't like m'gang's gonna take meh back, not after what I did."

"What did you do?" Rumble's hand came to rest on the lieutenant's shoulder, and Jazz made no move to get it off as he watched Samuel stand up and leave while taking his mobile out.

"Long story short, I saved the lives o' some o' th'rival gang members from a trap we'd set 'n they weren't happy. Tried t'kill meh fer it, I ended up murderin' five o' 'em before skippin' town."

"And this?" Rumble tried to touch the visor, and that's when Jazz smacked the hand away and held the wrist in an extremely tight grip just long enough to warn the dark-haired twin never to do that again.

"'M blind." The dreadlocked man tapped the electronics covering his temples. "These 'n th'optical band're now m'eyes." Said golden orbs narrowed behind their visor. "But if yeh think yer gettin' yer hands on this tech yeh've got another thing comin'."

"Blind, feisty and a bigger history than Morgan could ever dream of having. I like him," grinned Rumble.

"I noticed," snapped Frenzy sourly. He downed the remainder of his drink and stalked away from the table. Jazz blinked, looking a little confused, and the dark-haired man snorted.

"He's just jealous. Ignore him."

"Jealous?" Surprise, followed by slight suspicion. "What's he got to be jealous about?"

"I always get the pretty ones. C'mon, wanna dance some more?" Rumble tugged gently at Jazz's hand in invitation, and the lieutenant let himself be pulled out of the booth and to the dancefloor once more. He groaned as he recognized the song as Discolights, but decided to humor his dance partner and followed his lead.

If there was one thing Jazz wasn't, it was oblivious. He knew want when he saw it, however subtle or hidden it was, and right now that was Rumble all over. His advances so far hadn't been all that careful either, and Jazz was sure they were going to get more and more obvious. As he felt Rumble's hand on the small of his back guiding him, his mind whirled around. So far, Rumble was the only underling of Russell that wasn't overtly leery or envious of him, and he'd prefer to keep it that way. However, Jasper was unsure of how the younger twin would react to rejection of his advances, and the last thing he wanted was to lose the only somewhat stable, if tenuous, hold he had in Russell's crew.

On the other hand he didn't want to accept the advances simply because... well, Rumble wasn't Adam. It was only Adam he wanted to hold him like this, only Adam he wanted to hear his name spilling from and his real name at that, not the murderer he was quickly becoming once more. He didn't really register Rumble pulling them closer, as his mind was preoccupied with his best friend.

Best friend... boyfriend, maybe. As far as he knew, not even best friends with benefits shared the same passion he and Adam had that night. There was something else, something more than what Jazz was trying to tell himself there was between them, and his mind instantly threw imaginary confetti at him and welcomed him to the land of denial.

But he just didn't get it. Every time the brunette appeared in his thoughts his heart tugged almost painfully, and he felt the strange urge to go see him right that instant no matter where he was or what he was doing. There was also an insane surge of protectiveness, a raw, animalistic instinct that told him to prioritize keeping Adam safe and out of harm's way above everything else. He had never felt anything like it before, and highly doubted he would again. The question was why. Why was he feeling like this? Why Adam, of all people?

Because you're in love with him.

An unbidden thought that sprang up out of seemingly nowhere startled Jazz so much he stumbled on the next couple steps of the dance he'd been unconsciously following with Rumble. The dark-haired man caught him with a smile, but Jasper barely acknowledged it in the stun of what his mind had produced as an answer. Love?

He was in love with Adam?

That was impossible… And yet, in a weird way, it made perfect sense. It explained the protectiveness, the desire for closeness and the tight feeling in his chest. What it didn't explain was how he'd fallen so quickly, nor how someone like him could think he was worth enough to love Adam, let alone Adam love him back.

Oh.

Now that was a thought. Did Adam love him back? Was he the only one in this position?

No, Adam couldn't do. Couldn't, shouldn't, wasn't. Besides, what sane person would fall for someone like Jazz? He hardly had a clean past, and he certainly hadn't paid for any of his crimes. He'd killed, stolen, harmed, burned, shot and gambled, and only recently turned his life around. He was impulsive and rash, emotionally motivated, unstable, mouthy, insubordinate, a 'leap before you look' kind of person and never thought of the consequences his hasty, irresponsible actions could or would have. He'd hurt people, taken away from them a daughter, son, brother, father or aunt, and fucking enjoyed it! He'd enjoyed tormenting his captives, loved the look on their faces when they realized he wasn't going to spare them, that a child was more than willing to go so far with no prompting from anyone. He didn't deserve Adam; he didn't deserve any of the things he had.

A tear slipped down his cheek as he felt Rumble draw him in for the last fading beats of the song and kiss him soundly. Prowler, 'm sorry...

'And he wants to join me, you say?'

"Affirmative, Lord Morgan." Samuel glanced back at the club he'd stepped outside of, as though he could see right through the tacky wall to the man who'd terrorized LA quite happily.

'I see… And what's your assessment?'

"Appears genuine. Foxtrot has changed, but unable to pin-point how. Also hiding something. Big, but seemingly embarrassing as opposed to suspicious."

'Very well. I shall send Thane to a pre-arranged meeting place and he can test him. I want to see what this infamous Foxtrot has got after those years in hiding and evading me. He's finally in my grasp. I will send you the information once I have agreed it with Thane.'

"Acknowledged." Samuel hit the end call button and walked purposefully back into the bar. He spotted Frenzy at the far end of the bar, nursing a triple vodka and Coke, and was by the younger man's side in an instant.

"Where are Rumble and Foxtrot?" he queried, and Frenzy looked hazily up at him, squinting, before shooting a venomously drunken glare towards the dance floor and pointing vaguely. Samuel turned in time to see his youngest brother just pulling his lips away from a rather pre-occupied looking Foxtrot's. Samuel watched them for several more seconds before nudging Frenzy to down the rest of his drink and then the two of them stalked over to the dancers, Frenzy hiccupping and weaving rather unsteadily.

Rumble saw them coming and raised an eyebrow in question.

"He is to be tested," intoned Samuel, noting a single track down Jasper's cheek that could only come from a tear. Either Rumble hadn't noticed or he was ignoring it. "Details will be given when I receive them."

"Thane?" Rumble asked, and got a nod. He glanced down at Jazz, whose gaze was nailed to the floor and sighed. "Fox, how do we reach you?"

"Yeh don'," answered Jazz quietly. "I'll b' here tomorrow. Find meh then. And don'," he added, deliberately pressing his heel right where it would hurt the most on Rumble's foot, "call meh Fox. It's Foxtrot, got it?"

"OW! Fuck, alright alright." Rumble wiggled his sore foot when Jazz released it and sent the saboteur a baleful look. Jazz ignored it.

"So, who's Thane?"

Rae: Another chapter down and Jazz has had an epiphany! \o/

And again with the Rumble/Jazz stuff..... HA that's your dose of crack for today! xDD